For The World To See

For Polly

At the crossroads, I strain for a better view

on this cloudy hilltop, as if time

were linear and we could simply progress

toward some gourmand meal, the magical

result of every unknowing step revealed

— all the piecemeal duties of the sous chef

actually meaningful and necessary–ta-da!

in the big reveal.  Under the guise

of wise grandmother, here I am

with all my fragmented parts and this

torturous winter still pulling me down

into wretched isolation and bone-deep

cold.  Yesterday my friend, tired from a

trying week, sat down with me to ask

all the important questions true love

requires a heart to ponder.

Then through the terror and tears,

the neon-bright beckoning to denial,

the slow and painful

opening to a new perspective,

she simply held my hand.

My base shifted to include

more aspects of reality,

dropping the false narratives

that simply had no place

in this practical space she held.

And I wish for everyone such a

friend, unstinting generosity,

putting aside her own torments

to show me a brand new possibility

when I can step with love

through the false boundaries of time.

 

(A stream of consciousness Saturday post meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.  Only “strain” is part of that prompt, the other words just jumped on the bandwagon!)

Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt: strain, guise, base, gourmand and cloudy.

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Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

7 thoughts on “For The World To See”

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